


Hereditary

by SoulOfAFangirl684



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hogwarts First Year, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape Friendship, One Shot, POV Third Person, Time Skips, Vomiting, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 14:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15512187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulOfAFangirl684/pseuds/SoulOfAFangirl684
Summary: In which migraines run in the Evans family and Harry inherited more than his mother's eyes.





	Hereditary

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction. This one was half plot bunny, half excuse just to practice writing in these characters' voices a little more. I tried to give both the focus characters here an equal amount of focus. It’s not perfect, but a lot of thought went into how they were addressed each time. There are some instances where it’s very clearly focused on Harry and what he's thinking and feeling, and others where it’s very clearly focused on Severus. And then near the end, I kind of mashed them together. I’ll stop my babbling now. I just wanted to bring it up, because I know there are people who notice those sorts of things, and if it wasn’t addressed it would be nag at the back of my mind.
> 
> As I don’t experience them myself, any information on migraines was obtained via the internet or a friend who, unluckily, does suffer from them. (And whose first complaint was that Lily and Harry got away with only a few hours of misery when some of hers have lasted all day.)

There weren’t a lot of beautiful places in Spinner’s End. Even ‘run-down’ was too generous a description for most of the buildings, and the long-neglected streets were littered with rubbish.

But shortly past the point where Spinner’s End ended, one would come across a spot where the river ran a little more clearly and the trees were so tall they blocked the sight of all but the old mill. Hidden away here, Severus Snape found he was just far enough from that wretched neighborhood to be content.

And then there was Lily, of course. Lily Evans could make anything beautiful.

Though she certainly didn’t feel beautiful at the moment. Severus winced as another moan escaped her lips. He hated seeing her this way.

Lily was curled up at the base of a large tree, shielding herself from as much of the sun as possible. He sat awkwardly by her side, reluctant even to lay a hand on her back for fear of any added stimulus worsening her headache.

There was a moment of silence before he heard her murmur, “I’m sorry, Sev… This isn’t how I wanted today to go.”

“It’s not your fault,” Severus assured, trying to match his volume and airy tone to hers. A light wind weaved gently through the landscape, and though he found it refreshing, she shivered.

When Lily had arrived at their meeting place, he’d noted immediately how pale she looked, already in pain. At his alarm, she had briefly described a family history of migraines before rapidly paling further. He’d held her hair back as she’d vomited into the bushes and then led her over to where they now sat. Fortunately, her stomach had behaved itself since she’d stopped moving, but the pain in her head had gotten worse. Severus had been dismayed to learn there was little to be done but wait it out.

Nearly two hours passed before he saw the tension ease out of her shoulders. Lily took a deep breath and released it as a sigh. She was still for a moment before moving slowly to sit up. Severus rushed to help her.

“Is it over?” he asked at last when her face remained relaxed.

Lily propped herself up against the tree trunk, keeping her eyes closed. “The pain has stopped,” she confirmed. “Now I’m just… sore, if that makes sense. And tired.”

He nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “Okay. You want me to walk you home?” Severus wasn’t overly the fond of the Evans. Her parents had never been outright mean, but he could tell they thought he was a little odd. And then there was her sister… But Severus was even willing to put up with Petunia today if it would make Lily feel better.

She grimaced and he wished he could take back his words. “No… I don’t want to have ruined this day.”

“You didn’t. I told you; I know it’s not your fault.”

“Still… I don’t want to go back yet. Tell me more about Hogwarts, Sev. Please?”

He settled back against the tree with a small smile even though his backside had gone numb long ago. “What else do you want to know?”

**...……...**

Saturday morning dawned bright and early in the Gryffindor dorms, not that anyone paid it much attention. It was just late enough into the term that the castle’s residents were starting to feel the strain of their schoolwork. Surely, they deserved a late start to their weekend.

Harry watched as his dorm mates stirred for the briefest of moments before turning over and going back to sleep. All except for Ron, who didn’t wake for even a second.

Only Harry remained awake. He was used to rising early—back with the Dursleys, he’d always had more chores on the weekends when he couldn’t be away at school all day. But routine aside, he knew he wouldn’t be going back to sleep.

He took a deep breath and sat up, trying to relax though he knew he was doomed. Harry eased himself to his feet as quietly as possible, not that the other boys were likely to reawaken anyway, and slipped on his robes over his pajamas. There were already abnormal streaks of light through his vision. Things were going to get bad, and he didn’t want an audience.

Later, Harry would decide that his judgment had been impaired by the budding migraine. He’d only had a few Potions lessons after the disastrous first one, and his relationship with Professor Snape had only worsened. There was no logical reason for him to seek refuge in the dungeons.

Well, at the time he reasoned that his Potions classroom was cool and dark, making it seem utterly comforting. But surely that didn’t even begin to balance out his professor’s apparent hatred of him.

This was how Harry Potter came to be curled up in a ball in the domain of a man who hated him on a Saturday morning.

**...……...**

Severus Snape was in a rather neutral mood. One might argue that this was not quite _happy_ , but emotions were a relative thing. The man had awoken at an ungodly hour, but this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Severus preferred the castle when all of its occupants were asleep.

Nothing in his routine changed just because he had no classes to teach on this day. The life of a potions master was not flexible in this way. Many of the ingredients in his stores had a frustratingly brief shelf life or needed constant temperature adjustments. It was a tedious part of his job, but he found the rhythm to be rather relaxing. Not to mention that if he didn’t maintain his reputation for taking such meticulous care of his stores, some of the more adventurous students might feel emboldened to take liberties with his inventory. As it was, not even the Weasley twins had crossed that line.

Satisfied that everything was accounted for and in prime condition, Severus moved deeper into the dungeons. He paused just outside the door to his classroom, noticing it was already ajar. He doubted there was any serious danger lurking inside, but he slipped his wand out of his sleeve just in case.

Severus wordlessly silenced the door, knowing its tendency to creak, before easing it the rest of the way open. His eyes scanned over the entire room, waiting until they found nothing out of place, before he stepped inside. Only then did he spot the figure on the ground over by the counters.

In one fluid motion, his wand was hidden away in the folds of his robes once more. He didn’t recognize the boy from this distance, hunched in on himself as he was. His first thought was that the child had been the victim of some sort of start-of-the-year hazing. He may not have been the most welcoming presence in the school, but his Slytherins were well aware that he could be counted on to dole out appropriately vengeful punishments.

He began to move forward. The sound of footsteps made the boy shift his posture ever so slightly. The flash of scarlet on the boy’s robes made Severus pause. Closer now, he took another look at the boy, this time noticing the unkempt hair and glasses about a foot away on the floor. No…

The boy picked his head up and Severus was met with those startling, though unfocused, green eyes. Sluggishly, Potter murmured, “Morning, Pr’fess’r…”

“Mr. Potter…” Severus said slowly, his low voice crystal clear by comparison. “Do explain your presence in my classroom at this hour.”

His tone betrayed nothing—for all his apathy, one might suspect this to be a regular occurrence—but his mind was reeling. Of all the possible students to be found in such a pitiful state in his domain, James Potter’s spawn wasn’t very high up on the list. Scratch that, the boy did not even make the list. Gryffindor or not, surely he had a better sense of self-preservation than this act would suggest.

In his scramble to rationalize the sight before him, Severus arrived back at a very comfortable conclusion. Upset by the absence of favoritism in Severus’s class, the boy must be looking for attention.

Puzzlement subdued, he turned back to the boy with a harder look in the eyes. But his pain looked genuine, despite these not being a scratch on him, and there was something disconcertingly familiar about it…

“Sorry, sir…” Potter was just now getting around to answering him. “The door wasn’t locked…”

“Just because a person’s quarters are unguarded, you assume you are welcome?” Because really, his classroom was an extension of his personal rooms in the castle. “Your arrogance never ceases to astound me, Mr. Potter.”

He didn’t even respond to that. During this scolding, the boy’s head had dropped—quite disrespectfully—back to his knees. For a moment there was no sound but the boy’s breathing, which Severus had to admit had begun to sound more labored.

At last he continued, “I do believe I asked you _why_ you are in this room.”

Harry finally picked his head back up at this further prodding, though he kept his eyes closed. If he’d been thinking logically, he would have been prepared for this confrontation, but as it was, he just wanted whatever magic words were required to make his Potions professor disappear to pop into his head.

“Head hurts,” he mumbled at last, hoping that would be the end of it.

Severus allowed the boy another moment of silence as he scrutinized him again before his eyes snapped up to the dark walls of his classroom. Personally, he preferred to let as little sunlight seep into this room as he could get away with, but it had not escaped him that the dim atmosphere often made some of his students uncomfortable—the Gryffindors especially, already so out of their comfort zone in the Head of Slytherin House’s lair. As much as he wanted to just dismiss the matter, there was still a part of his brain attempting to decipher what had brought the boy _here_ , so far from the comfort of his tower.

Severus took one more look at the boy’s bleary green eyes and was caught off-guard when his heart constricted in his chest. Without the glasses, it was a lot harder to lose Lily’s eyes in the rest of James’s face. Especially when they held so much pain.

A headache, the boy had said? Harry’s words only now caught up with him as he was reluctantly yanked back to the memories of all the times he’d sat with Lily during one of her migraines throughout their childhood.

Severus Snape was neither a comforting nor a sentimental man, but he wasn’t delusional either. He accepted the reality of the situation in a matter of seconds and suppressed a groan. He supposed he could always send his least favorite student up to the infirmary—shift the responsibility onto Madam Pomfrey’s shoulders—but again he thought of Lily and knew this was out of the question. The boy would never make it all the way to the hospital wing. He would likely end up curled up in a drafty corridor somewhere along the way, and Snape couldn’t have that on his conscience.

“Stand up, Mr. Potter.”

The boy did not bother to suppress _his_ groan as he hauled himself to his feet. As soon as he was standing, he nearly pitched forward, but Severus threw out a hand to stop him, and then quickly transformed that tiny show of support to a steely grasp on the boy’s shoulder. He summoned Harry’s glasses before steering his student sharply towards the back of the room. He had a feeling the momentum alone was all the kept the boy on his feet.

Once behind Professor Snape’s desk, Harry was propelled through a door hidden in shadows. Beyond was an office that few were aware existed.

The room was small and shaped like a half-circle. The wall encompassing the door behind them was the only flat one. Before them was a smaller, rounder version of the classroom the two had just left behind, missing any and all accommodations made for students. The walls were all lined with shelves stocked full of potions ingredients, and a counter ringed the room directly underneath them. There was a large prep table right in front of them and a smaller desk and chair off to the side. There was an eerie light that illuminated the desk and walls but didn’t quite reach the center of the room.

Not that Harry noticed most of this. The room was blessedly dark and quiet. Professor Snape released him the moment the door closed behind them and he all but crumpled to the floor.

Severus strode past him as if he didn’t notice. The professor began rifling through the potions covering the walls as Harry backed up against the leg of the table, sticking his head between his knees. Severus glanced over as a few coughs escaped him, but the boy got himself under control before it turned to true gagging.

Severus paused slightly at the sound of his slow, controlled breathing. With a flick of his wand, the cold, surgical prep table was transfigured into a very comfortable large couch that didn’t fit the atmosphere of the room at all.

Harry picked his head up—looking even worse than he had before—and stared at the couch for a moment. Severus returned to his search as the boy finally got the hint, crawling up to lie amongst the abundance of cushions.

It only took a few more seconds for Severus to locate the potion he was looking for amongst his stores. Being neither delusional nor optimistic about the situation at hand, he grabbed more than one dose and smoothly slipped an empty cauldron onto the floor underneath the boy’s head.

In one emotionless movement, Severus pulled the boy into a sitting position and handed over the potion for his headache. The professor slipped the vials containing the extra doses into his robes and sat down at the desk in the corner. He had papers to grade, though he was sure he would be interrupted.

Sure enough, it was less than ten minutes before the first vial of potion made a reappearance.

**...……...**

“Evanesco,” Severus murmured lazily, vanishing the regurgitated mess from the bottom of the cauldron yet again.

Harry was getting little rest but had grown used to the routine at least. He lifted a shaky hand to receive the fourth vial of potion Snape spelled over to him. Early on, he’d been given something for nausea as well, but he hadn’t managed to keep either down long enough for them to do any good, so Snape had stuck to only sending over the headache potion. He was depleting his stores enough as it was.

There was the rustling of papers as Severus pulled yet another essay in front of him. They seemed particularly awful today, but that may have been influenced by the intermittent interruptions of the boy’s retching. To his credit, though, Potter was silent otherwise. There was no excessive moaning or whimpering, for which Severus was grateful.

He was still trying to wrap his mind around what had compelled him to bring the boy into his personal study. His logic had made sense at the time. What he found most confusing now was that he wasn’t even sure whether he regretted it or not.

It wasn’t until three more papers had been graded in silence that he professor looked up. Harry’s eyes were closed, and for the first time that morning, he seemed to be at peace. His body must have finally accepted the medicine being forced down his throat. The boy was asleep.

Severus watched him for a moment before turning back to his work, still pondering the bizarreness before him.

**...……...**

An hour later, Harry opened his eyes just as Severus set aside the last paper. Harry blinked a few times, disoriented. He tried to ignore the dull ache behind his eyes—just a memory of the real pain—and figure out where he was. He reached reflexively for his glasses, but they weren’t beside the bed where they usually were. In fact… he didn’t seem to be on a bed at all.

He jumped when a hand appeared in front of his face. It took a moment for him to realize the hand was holding out his glasses to him. Harry put them on and looked up into the face of his potions professor.

He froze for a moment as the events of the morning came back to him and he remembered exactly where he was. The man before him looked as stern as ever but not particularly cruel.

“Mr. Potter,” he said at last, softly and slowly. “If your daily crisis is at its end, I suggest you take your leave. I am a very busy man.”

His words dripped with mockery but seemed to be missing their usual venom. The message was very clear. Whatever had just transpired this morning was over, and it would be unwise to linger on the memory.

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered, quickly sliding off the couch as the potions master turned it back into a table.

The boy paused to thank him, but Severus turned up the intensity in his stare and Harry wisely moved on. They would never speak of this day again, and he was confident the boy wouldn’t bring it up with his friends. They were free to move on with their lives.

Ordeal over, Severus watched as Harry left the room. And took Lily’s eyes with him.


End file.
